Not Supposed to be Like This
by Reni-Chan
Summary: Sam knows his parents shouldn't be acting this way. Unfortunately, Kurt knows too.  For xlilxlullaby, Kummer Summer


**Title: **Not Supposed to Be Like This

**Summary: **Sam knows his parents shouldn't be acting this way. Unfortunately, Kurt knows too. (For xlilxlullaby, Kummer Summer)

**Originally a Kummer Summer prompt from xlilxlullaby**

The hotel room door opens with a creak as Sam tip-toes inside as quietly as he can. Stacie and Stevie are fast asleep in their bed, and Sam doesn't want to wake them. A quick scan of the room makes it clear that his parents aren't "home"- as usual. All is silent in the cramped room- no soft noises from a TV that his mom has turned down so as not to disturb his younger siblings. No soft crinkle of newspaper as his dad searches for jobs, circling the ones he's most suited for with a red crayola marker borrowed from Stevie.

These noises have been absent for a good month or so. Sam grew used to _not_ hearing them as quickly as he had gotten used to hearing them. The blonde laces his fingers behind his head, letting out a sigh and glancing at his parents' bed. They probably won't be home until much later that night- he could probably get away with borrowing their bed and not trying to squeeze onto the other with his sleeping siblings.

He begins to unbutton his red shirt- part of his Louie's Pizzeria uniform- and glances at the phone sitting on the nightstand between the two beds. His green eyes stay fixed on that phone for a few minutes as he changes into his pajamas- only shifting when he needs to button a button or some such.

Sitting in the drawer of the nightstand is a slightly crumpled piece of paper torn from one Kurt Hummel's notebook. Kurt's name, number, and home address had been quickly scrawled across the page- Kurt had been in a rush to write the information down before Sam's shame over being discovered took over and he rushed back to his truck, and so had scribbled it as fast as he could before handing it to the blonde and telling him that he could- and should- call any time he needed help, or someone to talk to.

Sam isn't sure which he needs. He isn't sure he's in a position to ask for either. He isn't sure he wants to.

He isn't sure he can.

It's late at night- or early in the morning- when Sam's mother arrives. Sam is microwaving pop-tarts for his siblings when the door swings open and the brunette woman slowly drags her feet over the threshold. Her eyes are drooping, her hair is unkempt, and she shows no sign of where she's been all night. As usual.

Blue eyes sweep over the room, checking on Stacie's and Stevie's sleeping forms before settling on Sam, whose eyes remain fixed on the slowly rotating pastry in the microwave as his mother mutters a half-hearted, "Good morning."

Sam replies with a quiet, "Welcome back" as his mother sits on the edge of the vacant bed and pulls off her shoes. "Have you heard from Dad?" Sam asks as the microwave beeps. His mother says nothing, but shakes her head, before falling back and laying her head on the starchy motel pillow. Within minutes she's out cold, without even bothering to change out of the clothes she wore all night.

Sam breathes deeply, exhaling with a sigh. "Love you too, Mom." He mumbles, setting the hot pastries on paper plates before reaching into the tiny refrigerator for two tiny bottles of orange juice.

Last call is two a.m., isn't it? Or is that not a universal thing?

Shouldn't his father be home by now?

-break-

Mr. Schue has the bright idea to sing songs about "hard times"- because they're so, "relevant now, with our economy in the state it's in". He means well. He's trying to do something nice, Sam is sure. However, when Rachel and the girls are belting "Hard Knock Life" with their peppy grins, Sam can't help but feel resentful of the effort.

Mr. Schuester doesn't understand.

Rachel and the girls don't understand.

Nobody does.

Kurt's hand rests on Sam's as these thoughts cause his brow to furrow and his lips to frown. Blue eyes stare into green with a look of concern, and Sam should be happy that he has such a good friend. He should reassure Kurt that he's fine, so the worry on his face can be replaced with that beautiful smile Sam usually loves to see-

But those blue eyes only remind him of his mother's eyes, and the misery presses even more heavily on Sam's shoulders. He averts his gaze and pulls his hand out from under Kurt's, crossing his arms and pulling himself inward. The look on Kurt's face at this rejection of his kind intentions makes Sam immediately want to take that hand again- but he just can't.

Not only because he's ashamed- it's bad enough that Kurt knows he's homeless- he doesn't need to know what's going on with his parents- but because he's got too much on his mind already to be thinking of how much he wants to hold Kurt's hand. He's got too much on his mind to be thinking of how much he wants Kurt, period.

He thinks maybe, if his life weren't like this, he could be more honest with Kurt about how he feels- but his life is like this, and he can't. Yet another weight dropped on his shoulders by cruel, cruel fate.

Sam passes the class time in silence, trying his hardest to just ignore all of the sights and sounds around him as he does the math in his mind to see how much he can spend on groceries while still having the money to pay for the hotel.

Then he realizes the month is coming to an end, and he'll soon need to pay up on his father's bar tab.

-break-

"So, when will your parents be back?"

Kurt had come over with a bag full of freshly washed and ironed clothes earlier that evening. Stacie and Stevie had been terribly excited to see the blue eyed boy, jumping up and down in their joy at Sam's "funny friend"'s arrival. Kurt, being Kurt, had scoffed at the "funny" comment, before sending his usual brilliant smile Sam's way. Sam's returning smile had been weak in comparison.

It's after they have put the blonde tykes to bed that Kurt asks the question Sam has been dreading.

Sam responds with a low, unintelligable mumble and tries to change the subject, but Kurt's smarter than that. He asks again when Sam's mother and father will return, and Sam makes a few vague utterances about them being back later before turning around and walking to the other side of the room, pretending to search for something very important. Sam isn't a good liar. He can't just blurt out some random time and sound believable. Unfortunately, silence does him no good, either.

"Samuel, when will your parents be back?" Kurt asks a third time, blue eyes narrowing in suspicion as Sam rifles through a pile of Stevie's toys for some elusive imaginary object. Sam tenses a few moments, then returns to his search, pretending not to hear the question.

Again, Kurt is smarter than that.

"Sam, do you have _any_ idea when your parents will be back?"

Sam bites his quivering lower lip, as if to keep the words inside his mouth. It doesn't work. Within moments he's blurting out the entire situation- much as he had when Kurt had asked him why he was working as a delivery boy. Sam tells of how his father was the first to just give up. First he simply lied around all day, then he started spending every evening at the bar, coming back only to collapse drunkenly in the doorway until Sam dragged him inside.

He tells Kurt about how his mother kept looking for jobs even after his father stopped. How for a full month she spent every day searching for and applying for jobs wherever she could get them. How eventually she stopped coming "home" at all except to sleep for a few hours every morning. How he is sure, even though she is out of the hotel all hours of the day and night, she is no longer even trying to find a job.

Tears form in- but don't fall from- Sam's eyes as he tells Kurt of his three different jobs. Tells him of how he not only has to pay the bills, pay his father's bar tab, and provide for his entire family, but also go out to buy all of the groceries as well as care for his siblings. Tells him how much he worries when he has to leave them alone in the motel for hours on end.

He doesn't remember how it happened- he's been far too focused on his words to pay attention to anything else- but as he finishes speaking he finds he has collapsed to his knees and weeping into Kurt's jacket as the boy rubs comforting circles in his back. He feels pathetic- worthless- as he clings ever more tightly to the grey fabric with his shaking hands.

"Sam... This isn't okay. You and your siblings shouldn't be living like this." Kurt says, running a hand over Sam's blonde hair. "Your parents shouldn't be acting the way they are. They should be providing for you- not the other way around. I'm sorry, but this situation isn't right. We need to tell someone-"

"No!" Sam breaks free of Kurt's comforting embrace, green eyes frightened and panicked. "You- You can't tell anyone!"

Kurt's face is full of pity as he gazes at the blonde boy. "Sam, you can't go on like this. You can't _do everything_ like this. You'll stretch yourself until you snap. Please, let me help you."

"Help me _how_?" Sam asks, his volume rising as he struggles to get to his feet. "By- by calling Child Services so they can break up my family? So me and Stevie and Stacie all get split up and put in foster homes? So my parents finally lose _everything?_ I don't want that kind of help!"

"Well you _need _more help then your parents are giving you!" Kurt shouts right back as he stands to face the blonde. "You're going to _kill yourself_ if you keep working like this! The way things are going, your parents are cheating you _and _your siblings out of a decent future!"

"It's not my dad's fault he lost his job!" Sam cries, hands fisted at his sides. Kurt is his friend. He's supposed to understand this!

"No, but it _is _his fault that he's blowing your hard earned money on booze every night and not even trying to help you out!" Kurt shoots back. "And it _is _your mom's fault that she's not searching for a job, but still doesn't want to come home and care for her children!"

"Shut _up!" _Sam finally shouts. "Shut up shut up shut _up! _You don't know _anything! _You can't just come in here and start throwing around judgements like you're _perfect _or something- like- like you never make any mistakes! You don't know what you're talking about, so just- just _get out!"_

The anger on Kurt's face fades, and he chokes on whatever words he had been planning to say in reply. Half of his expression is pained- the rest is nervous. It doesn't take Sam long to figure out why. All he needs to do is turn around to see that Stacie and Stevie are wide awake, staring with tear-filled eyes at their older brother.

Sam stutters half-formed words, trying to explain what just happened to his frightened and confused siblings. He hears Kurt's quick footsteps dashing away from him, followed by the slamming of the door. For the second time that day, Sam collapses in on himself.

He lost his home, he's slowly losing his parents, and he's sure he has just lost his best friend. His siblings try to hug away his tears as he silently asks God how much more he has to lose. Where is that window God was supposed to open when He closed a door on Sam and his family?

Where the hell is the bright side? The silver-lining?

This isn't how his life is supposed to be.


End file.
